Taste the Forbidden
by Lucinda
Summary: After discovering Hank's affair, Joyce Summers decides to have one of her own. She meets Javiar Vachon... Crossover with Forever Knight.
1. Taste the Forbidden

Taste the Forbidden  
  
Author: Lucinda  
rating: pg, pg 13  
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon, contains some Joyce/Hank, Other/Hank  
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.  
smummary: When Joyce discovers Hank having an affair, she decides to have her own affair on her next art buying trip.  
set considerably before the BtVS series began, and before Vachon arrived in Toronto.  
  
  
  
Joyce Summers was in a good mood. Her daughter Buffy was in kindergarten, delighted with the opportunity to spend hours with other little children. Joyce was just delighted with all the additional time that it gave her. Time to work on the house, or for the gallery, or maybe... just maybe she could try to rekindle the romance between herself and her husband Hank. He'd seemed a bit distant lately...  
  
She made her way into the law firm where he worked, hoping to surprise him over his lunch break. She'd packed a basket with some finger foods and a bottle of white wine, and a few... interesting little extras. She had no difficulty finding his office, the discrete bronze plaque proclaiming 'Hank Summers' on the door.  
  
There were noises coming from inside. Little gasping noises and the soft sound of kissing. She felt something inside of her grow cold and tense, certain that she was hearing the sounds of someone... some ones making out. 'Please let it be a couple of interns...' Her mind offered a feeble plea to any power that might be listening.  
  
Her plea was denied. Oh, there was an intern, this dainty little dark haired girl, her shirt half off as she ran her hands over the naked chest of Hank Summers.  
  
Something inside of her froze and cracked, and she simply turned around, leaving the office as quickly and discretely as possible. She managed to force the tears to wait until she reached the car. The image seemed burned into her mind, Hank and that girl... and it was quite clear to her that Hank hadn't been protesting. Had in fact seemed to know exactly how and where to touch the girl to make her... She shook her head, wiping futilely at her hot tears. Clearly, this wasn't their first interlude.  
  
Hank Summers, her husband, was cheating on her. She wasn't enough for the father of her child anymore. And he didn't even have the guts to tell her.  
  
Apparently, he wasn't that worried about 'trying a little harder to keep this marriage together', not even 'for the sake of our daughter' like he'd claimed. Like he'd argued when she'd suggested they just get a quiet divorce after she'd found out about his last affair. Or at least, the one he'd had with the hispanic secretary that had been at his old company. Maybe there had been other affairs that she'd missed.  
  
But what could she do about it? She still wasn't quite financially independent, or she'd divorce Hank so fast he'd get whiplash. She would have to be a lot better established first... Which made her smile a bit. She would take a page from Hank's lesson book. Career before marriage, and feel free to enjoy yourself. Kessie, the woman who owned the gallery had asked her if she'd be willing to make a buying trip for her... she'd initally asked to think about it over a few days, but now? Now her mind was made up. Go away for a while and have some fun. Maybe a no-strings fling with some handsome guy.  
  
So, she made the arrangements for Buffy to stay with her parents, her Grandma and Grandpa Hike for a couple weeks. A small part of her wondered if Hank would even notice that she was gone, despite the note that she'd left on the refrigerator... But that wasn't going to be her problem anymore. No longer would she drive herself crazy trying to hold together this disintegrating marriage. In three more days, she'd be in Seattle, looking at art.  
  
Joyce arrived in Seattle, settled her things into the hotel room, and was off talking to artists. She even managed to keep herself so busy that she didn't have time to dwell on Hank. Not until a few hours after dark, when she was sitting at this little outside cafe staring at her half eaten sandwich. The tears welled up, rolling down her cheeks in a silent trickle.  
  
"A lovely lady shouldn't be crying, or so alone." There was a faint accent to the man's voice, something not quite hispanic... maybe actual spanish?  
  
She looked up, her first thought to tell whoever it was to go away. But then she got a look at him. Longish dark hair, curling down to his collar. Beautiful dark eyes that she could drown in, and so... he had what she could only describe as boyish good looks combined with a sleek sensuality. She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. "Maybe you'd care to sit with me then?"  
  
"I'd be delighted to keep you company. For as long as you want." He lifted one of her hands, brushing his lips over the back of it. "Javier Vachon at your service, fair lady."  
  
Oh my goodness... the charm in this man. He'd be able to sell ice to Eskimos. Joyce could only smile at him, certain that somehow, before she left Seattle, there would be something between her and this man, Javier Vachon. His eyes promised passion and pleasure, and wrapped everything in mystery. "Joyce Summers."  
  
They didn't do anything more than chat over drinks at the cafe that night, but Joyce knew that she'd be here tomorrow evening. She knew that he would be here as well. An she knew that he would be trying to charm her, to seduce her with pretty words and smoldering looks. She was perfectly agreeable to that, actually...  
  
Joyce smiled to herself when Javier Vachon arrived the next evening. He looked... wonderful. She only hoped that she looked half as tempting, dressed in a dress of pale gold, fitted through the bodice, the skirt full and falling halfway to her calves. She'd pulled her hair back, the honey blond curls held back by a pale yellow rose. Somehow, his smile when he mentioned how pleasant the evening was seemed to say that he knew. He knew that she would be in his arms if he only asked.  
  
Apparently, Javier had a bit more subtlety than most men his age. He smiled at her, one hand holding hers, his thumb slowly caressing her palm. "Walk with me in the moonlight?"  
  
Joyce knew full well that he was actually inviting her to do a good bit more than just walk in the moonlight with him. From the look in his eyes, the curve of his smile... Javier Vachon was propositioning her. Suggesting without words that after a walk they go somewhere for illicit passion. Smiling, Joyce rose from the chair. "I'd love to."  
  
They walked in the moonlight, hands linked, hips and shoulders occasionally brushing. There were soft smiles and glances that hinted of passions and desires. Javier knew some places that were beautiful by moonlight...   
  
He smiled, kissing her lips, his mouth tasting almost like copper. Joyce felt as if she was melting in his arms. When he spoke, it was a husky whisper, his accent stronger. "Come home with me?"  
  
She looked into his dark eyes and knew that this was inevitable. Had probably been inevitable since he first offered a greeting. "I think I'd like that."  
  
Joyce allowed Javier Vachon to lead her to his loft, their travel slowed by lingering sweet kisses. Hands touched, sliding over the curves and planes of their soon to be lover's bodies. When they finally made it inside his residence, there wasn't much time wasted dancing around what they both knew would happen.  
  
It wasn't until later that he held her, watching her through half hooded eyes, a smile his only adornment. "I can't offer you anything..."  
  
Joyce silenced him with a kiss. "Yes, you can. You can offer me this week, offer me sweet memories to cherish the rest of my days. You can offer me a distraction from my life."  
  
He smiled, slightly, although there was a hint of puzzlement and a hint of relief. "I can make sure you have good memories of your time in Seattle." Leaning over, his kissed her again, lingeringly. "Very good memories."  
  
end Taste the Forbidden. 


	2. Another Taste

Taste the Forbidden 2: Another Taste  
  
Author: Lucinda  
rating: pg, pg 13  
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon   
sequel to Taste the Forbidden.  
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.  
set before Sunnydale  
  
  
  
Somehow, Joyce had known that things couldn't last. Hank had sworn that he would change, that he would stop chasing other women, that he would be more supportive of her, more involved with Buffy's life. She'd wanted to believe him, most especially for Buffy's sake. She'd wanted to hope that Buffy would be able to look out and see her father smiling and applauding at recitals, that Hank would go listen to the teachers comment on how Buffy was doing in school.  
  
It had even seemed as if he might have been sincere. No more mysteriously late meetings, no more lipstick smudges on his collar. He'd been more involved with Buffy, even taking her to some of her rehearsals. But he'd promised to stop the affairs before, and it had never lasted.  
  
But in the end, it seemed that Hank Summers had only learned to be a bit more sneaky. One of the assistants at the art gallery had seen him out to dinner, at this expensive Japanese place that he'd never taken her to, having dinner with some woman, someone with dark hair and a red dress. He'd told her there was a business meeting that night, something about his annual review. That didn't sound much like a review to Joyce.  
  
Now? His company was sending him to a seminar on corporate law, or at least, that was what he'd claimed. But she'd seen the airline purchase confirmation. Two tickets to Reno, for a week. Neither of them were for her.  
  
She'd found herself crying, not from surprise at Hank, but out of a sense of loss. He'd shattered the last sliver of faith that she'd had in him. She'd half expected it, had known that he would hurt her again, but she still found herself crying, deep, painful sobs that left her gasping. It was like a painful purging, and when the tears ended, leaving her shaken and tired on the floor, she could think almost clearly again.  
  
Joyce called her mother, asking if she could watch Buffy for about a week. There was... a problem with Hank, and she would like a little time away from everything to try to think things through.  
  
Her mother had known immediately that 'there's a problem with Hank' had meant another affair. She'd ben willing to watch Buffy, knowing that the last thing the poor girl needed right now was to see her mother falling to pieces. It was hard enough being thirteen without that sort of stress. So, Buffy went to spend some time with Grandma.  
  
Joyce had felt almost disasociated, as if she was in some strange house instead of the place that she'd tried so hard to make home. She'd packed a few things, and been on a plane away, to Seattle before she'd even had time to think about why she was going there. But then the answer came to her.  
  
Seattle was where she'd met Javiar Vachon. Even if he wasn't there, the place held good memories, happy memories. There was nothing there to remind her of Hank Summers. Wouldn't it be easier to think about things in a place where the pain wasn't being constantly ripped out again?  
  
It had been the same little cafe that she'd met him the first time. She'd settled to have a coffee, debating something stronger, wearing a pale blouse and a pair of comfortable jeans. Joyce looked up when the other chair rattled a bit, smiling as she saw Javiar again. He still had the same wonderful chocolate eyes, the same soft curling hair... It was as if the passing years hadn't touched him at all. "Javiar... It's good to see you again."  
  
"Joyce... You look good. What brings you back, business or pleasure?" His slow sensual smile suggested that he hoped it was the latter of the two.  
  
She gave a feeble smile back. "Actually... I came for an escape. But... You certainly do know how to distract a gal from unhappy thoughts." She reached over, resting her hand on his, wondering briefly why his hand was so cool.  
  
His smile would have heated up a statue. "I can take your mind off of problems, querida. All you have to do is say the word."  
  
She had the feeling that there was something, some border that she was hovering over. That her answer would somehow change something. Gripping his hand just a bit tighter, a final effort to keep from being overwhelmed by broken trusts, she looked up, her eyes stinging with tears that she refused to shed. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "please."  
  
It was almost as if this was merely a continuation of the week she'd spent here before. They were in his loft, clothing on the floor as hands touched, desperate to feel, lips explored, tasting, teasing. There was something, almost a sense of urgency, of need to their actions, and when they came together, it was as if they were breaking years of frustrations. There had been a moment when she could have sworn that his eyes looked oddly pale, before he'd bitten into her shoulder during the... intensity of the moment.  
  
Later, curled in his arms, their passions thoroughly sated, she ran her fingers over his arm, contemplating things. If his eyes had looked different... if it hadn't been a trick of the light, a momentary hallucination from the pleasure of the moment, what did it matter? He hadn't hurt her, wouldn't hurt her. She had asked him to help her not think of things, and he'd more than fulfilled that offer. She'd never felt so... loved, so delightfully experienced as she had with Javiar. They'd explored each other all over again, finding the places and actions that brought the most pleasure... It was ecstasy.  
  
Also quite exhausting. With a yawn, she snuggled closer to his chest, frowning slightly about... but it didn't matter. She was to tired to think about it. Joyce fell asleep in his arms.  
  
She didn't know how long it had been before she woke up. She'd shifted in her sleep, now sideways to Javiar, her head resting over his chest. For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, smiling at the feeling of silken sheets, the after-effects of last nights pleasures, Javiar's wonderful muscles...  
  
Then it hit her. He had no heartbeat. He wasn't breathing.  
  
"Javiar? Javiar?" She felt something like panic well up inside of her, and worry. What had happened? He'd seemed so incredibly healthy...  
  
One hand moved, rubbing slowly at his temple. His voice was slurred by sleep. "Joyce? Wha's wrong?"  
  
"You... Javiar, are you feeling alright? I could have sworn that you weren't breathing..." Joyce felt confusion rise up in her. He hadn't been breathing, she knew that. And his heart hadn't been beating, still wasn't beating. But... but he was sitting up now, blinking at her, awake, talking. He was alright, so he must have a heartbeat, must be breathing... What other explanation could there be?  
  
With a slow, sleepy smile, he pulled her close, a one armed hug. "I'm okay, I promise. There's just this thing... sometimes, when I sleep... I have to be careful. There's a name for the condition, but I can't quite remember it right now..."  
  
It all made sense then, almost. Her best friend from high school's husband had that condition, one where he might just stop breathing in the night. "Sleep... apnea? I think that's it's name... Where you just stop breathing in the night? That's very dangerous, you could die." But it still didn't explain the non-heartbeat, didn't explain the lack of a pulse at his throat...  
  
"Good thing I had you here then, isn't it? Should I ask why you came back?" He ran his fingers over a lock of her hair, a soft caress. Then, his eyes fell a bit lower, coming to the mark he'd left on her shoulder, the place where he'd bitten her. "oh... Joyce. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..."  
  
She touched his fingers, resting over the mark which was now a bit tender. "You didn't hurt me, Javiar. Actually..." Joyce could feel herself blushing. "That... last night, we were so... passionate. It was almost... well, primal, if that makes sense. It doesn't... well, maybe it's a bit tender... I think you might have drawn blood. But I'm fine. If you really want to make it up to me, you can bring me breakfast in bed."  
  
He smiled, his eyes still so full of mystery and secrets. Bending just a bit, he placed a feather light kiss over the mark. "I wouldn't ever want to hurt you, Joyce. Remember that."  
  
With a swift change of expression, he tilted her chin up a bit, his eyes gazing into hers. "What has you so upset, you almost looked like you were trying not to cry into your coffee."  
  
"Well... oh, I feel... it's Hank." She couldn't quite understand why she was explaining all of this. Wasn't there something wrong with explaining your marital collapse to your lover? But she found herself explaining it, the whole, sordid, tawdry mess.  
  
"He's no good for you, Joyce. You deserve to be happy, not miserable." Javiar's voice was a soothing murmur in her ears as he pulled her close again. "Let me help you forget for a little longer..."  
  
Javiar Vachon spent the rest of the week helping her forget about her troubles. Giving her good memories, helping her rediscover her attraction, rediscover pleasure and passion. A week of healing for her bruised spirit. She asked no more from him than that, and he didn't offer anything more beyond a small scrap of paper, his name and a number written on it, and a low murmur. "Call me if you need to be reminded how beautiful you are."  
  
"You make me feel beautiful, Javiar. The way that you look at me, the way you can make me blush from just a smile..." Joyce leaned over, kissing him.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
end Another Taste 


	3. Words of Warning

Taste the Forbidden 3: Words of Warning  
  
Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg, pg 13  
  
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon, contains some Joyce/Hank  
  
sequel to Taste the Forbidden.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.  
  
set before Season One begins. Joyce has just bought her house in Sunnydale.  
  
  
  
Joyce sighed, looking at the array of boxes in the rooms of the house that she'd just purchased. Her divorce from Hank was final, and she'd decided that she had no further need to be in LA, especially considering Buffy. After her daughter had burned down the school gym... Hank hadn't wanted custody of her, and so, Joyce had to find a school district that would accept Buffy. She'd ended up all the way out here, a good three hours from LA, from everything that had made her life there. A fresh start.  
  
Buffy would be with Hank for another two weeks while she was arranging everything, although it hadn't been set up like that. He'd wanted to take her on a vacation, something he'd called 'quality father-daughter time'. Joyce had let him, knowing that she would only cause trouble trying to keep them from staying in touch. So, she'd made the arrangements by herself. Hired movers by herself. Arranged utilities by herself. She'd been managing by herself a lot lately...  
  
Her mind turned away from Hank and Buffy, away from her life of responsibilities to Javiar Vachon. The handsome spanish lover that she'd met in Seattle so many years ago. They'd stayed in touch this time, phone calls, the occasional letter... He'd been telling her that she sounded like she could use a vacation. Maybe he was right... Glancing outside at the darkness, she gave a small smile. He never went out in the daytime, perhaps she could call him?  
  
Smiling, she pulled out her cell phone, dialing a number from a carefully saved scrap of paper. Vachon had moved, and no longer lived in Seattle as he had for the last fifteen years. He'd ended up in Toronto, with a new address and a new phone number. He'd invited her to come visit if she had the time. Maybe he'd been hoping for another interlude, maybe he was hoping for some sort of... commitment? But she didn't think he was the marrying sort. A vacation for about a week sounded good...  
  
It didn't take long before her trip was planned, everything arranged and the tickets purchased. He'd insisted that she stay with him, that a hotel would just be an inconvenience for her. All she'd had to do was pack. Smiling, she looked at the pale golden dress she'd found in the back of her closet. It still fit, although she felt that she filled the bodice out a bit more than she had ten years ago. Would he remember it? With a smile, she left the dress out, planning to wear it for the flight. Even if he didn't remember, it made her feel a bit better that the dress still fit after so many years.  
  
Her flight went smoothly, and she arrived in the Toronto airport, waiting impatiently for her luggage to emerge, hoping that it was here instead of Atlanta, or Houston, or in transit to Japan. He'd said that he wouldn't be able to pick her up, but he'd given a careful set of directions to get to his place. Considering her five o'clock arrival time, Joyce had a suspicion about why he wouldn't be able to meet her... The same suspicion that had flared at his lack of a heartbeat, at the fact that she hadn't once seen him consume any sort of food, from the way he'd bitten her in the heights of their passion.  
  
But she didn't say the word. Carefully didn't say it, not even as a whisper, hardly even dared to allow herself to think the word. Surely there had to be more dangers than just the chance that he could get carried away in a moment of passion. Surely there were others like that... and what if they were not so charming, not so civilized? No, the word would remain unspoken. But that didn't mean that she was an idiot, or deliberately ignorant of her lover's peculiarities. She preferred to think that she was extending the courtesy of not commenting on a private matter.  
  
Eventually, she arrived at his loft, luggage firmly in her possession, her dress only a little rumpled from the traveling. With a small pause to take a breath, gather her courage, and remind herself that the worst that could happen would be him not finding her attractive anymore, she made her way to the door, her knock a tiny bit hesitant against the solid wooden door. She wanted so desperately for his to feel like home, or at least like safety. She wouldn't have been so nervous if he still resided in Seattle, but he'd moved, and things had changed. She just wasn't quite certain how, or what the new rules were.  
  
The door opened, the shadow of the building shielding it from the sunlight, and there he was. Slightly rumpled as if he'd just got out of bed, his dark hair falling like a tangled cloud around him. His eyes widened, and there was what might have been a quick flicker of amber in their chocolaty depths. "Joyce... You look wonderful. Come in, come in... how was your flight?"  
  
With those words, any awkwardness that she'd felt melted away, leaving her delighting in his company, and feeling attractive, desirable... It was a heady feeling, and she smiled. "It was a long, dull flight, and the most exciting part was waiting to see if my luggage had made it with me."  
  
He led her to a couch, holding her hand as if she were a great and wealthy lady, escorted by her faithful courtier. "And how are things in your life? You said the last time we talked that the divorce was final... Did you find a new home?"  
  
She smiled as she settled onto the couch. "It is, and I have. It's not in LA anymore, I had... well, there was that problem with Buffy and finding a new school for her. I ended up in a smaller town, sort of charming looking place. It's called Sunnydale."  
  
To all appearances, Javier Vachon began to choke and gasp, his face turning oddly paler. His expression was one of worry and fear. "You moved WHERE? Querida... you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into..."  
  
"Javier... are you alright?" She was beside him, one hand on his back, the other cupped over his cheek.  
  
He leaned into her hand a bit, his eyes closing for a moment. "It's not me that you should worry about. It's you, and your daughter. Sunnydale... it's not a charming little town. Unless you want to count the sort of charming that's found in Stephan King novels. The place is evil. Once, it had a more accurate name, 'La Boca Del Inferno' - the Mouth of Hell. I've never been there, but... some of the ones who have been said that the name was fitting. There are things out there, things far worse and more dangerous that I am... And they will go there."  
  
"You aren't a danger to me, Javier. No matter what you want to call yourself, you aren't evil, and I'm not in danger from you." She slid her hand down his face, fingers trailing over his chest, knowing full well that his heart would not be beating.  
  
He pulled her close, a firm hug that left her breathless and just the right side of squished. "You have no idea how much those words mean to me, Joyce. How rare your trust is..."  
  
"So, what do I need to know to be safer there? I can't... I can't afford to try to get a different house, I can't afford to move again. And I need to worry about Buffy's future..." She felt tears well up in her eyes. She'd been trying to find a way to start over, to create a new life, a new start for herself and Buffy, a start away from Hank and the pain of his broken promises. Why did it have to be so hard?  
  
"I can tell you some, but... I really don't know how to deal with everything that might go there, might be drawn by the evil and power of La Boca. But you must be careful... and if you need me, if I can help you, call me. For you, I would go to the Mouth of Hell." His voice was a reassurance, a warm comfort in her ear as his fingers ran through her hair.  
  
"It will have to do." She smiled at him, feeling hope and worry fighting with the desire that he inspired. "And then, you can make me feel safe from the scary things out in the shadows."  
  
"Querida... I promise to do my best to keep you safe." His lips met hers, gently. It was a kiss of reassurance, not just for tonight, but a promise for the future.  
  
end Taste Forbidden 3: Words of Warning. 


	4. Entanglements

Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg, pg 13  
  
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon  
  
fourth in Taste the Forbidden  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.  
  
summary: When Joyce is attacked by Darla, Javier Vachon knows that something is wrong.  
  
  
  
  
  
At first, he didn't quite recognize it when the pain struck. He knew it was pain, like something had ripped into the top of his shoulder, a line of pain that burned and left him feeling cold. But it took him a bit to understand why, to realize where the pain was really coming from.  
  
It was Joyce's pain.  
  
Someone had attacked Joyce, had bitten into her, torn her open and spilled her blood. And he'd felt it, felt it through the link that had been formed by their passion, by her allowing him to taste her, to drink from her. Someone had hurt her, and he'd felt it. There was really only one thing to do in the situation - go to her, make certain that she was well, and then hunt down and kill whoever was responsible.  
  
He was on a flight headed towards to Sunnydale within an hour. Actually, it would take him to Los Angeles, but from there, he could get to Sunnydale easily enough. He would go to her, do his best to help her and comfort her.  
  
He'd told her that Sunnydale was bad. If only she'd been able to move away, but there were the concerns of money. He would have helped her if he'd thought for a single moment that Joyce would have allowed it. But she was a proud and stubborn woman.  
  
The trip was miserable, and upon discovering that there was absolutely no night-flights into Sunnydale available, Vachon sighed, resisted the urge to growl, and walked out, holding firmly the small bag containing a few useful items and a change of clothing. As soon as he was out of eyesight, he took to the air. There was more than one way to travel, and while he might not be able to match speeds with even the slowest commercial aircraft, he could damn well fly faster than a taxi. Onwards to the Mouth of Hell...  
  
The things a guy did when he cared. One of these times, it would get him into a lot of trouble... maybe even killed again. He just hoped that day wasn't tonight.  
  
He was starting to feel shaky by the time he made it to Sunnydale, feeling the aura of the Hellmouth wrapping around him like smothering warm, wet linen. It offered strength, fuelled his strength and his hunger both, and fanned the desire to see whoever had hurt his Joyce ripped to little slivers at his feet. It was a dangerous place. He landed on the roof of the hospital, feeling her inside. Fortunately, there was a door to allow him to slip into the hospital.  
  
Closing his eyes, he paused at the base of the stairs that connected the roof to the top floor of the hospital. He could feel the people on the other side of the fire resistant door, hear the babble of their words, the soft thumping of their heartbeats... and it made his teeth itch, the desire to just sink his teeth in and drink rising up inside of him, strong and dark. It was a combination of the flight and the Hellmouth. He'd best find somewhere that they stored some blood units before he talked to Joyce, help regain his control a little. Granted, the idea made him feel a little bad, those units were supposed to go to injured people. But that would be better, less problematic than snacking on one of those injured people would be.  
  
Eventually, he found a room, and helped himself to three packets, wincing a bit at the chill, the flat taste and the hint of preservatives. But he felt in more control now, and more capable of keeping his teeth to himself. Softly, he made his way towards the feeling of Joyce.  
  
Hearing a conversation about anemia and how someone 'should have known better', he ducked into a closet full of bed sheets and thin blankets. There was a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, walking beside a middle aged man. There was something about her, not only did she look almost familiar somehow, he could feel her, like a humming in his bones. She would be a puzzle, and he had the feeling that it was the sort of puzzle that had teeth. Best stay out of her way until he knew what was going on.  
  
Joyce was just down the hall, and he slipped into her room. She was laying in a hospital bed, dressed in this little thin gown, a tube going into her arm. She looked so pale, and there was a bandage stuck to the side of her neck, right where he'd felt the pain come from. "Joyce... sweet-heart, what happened?"  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, and Joyce looked around the room. "Javier... you're here." She smiled when she looked at him.  
  
In a moment, he was at her side, her hand held in his. Worry gnawed at him as he asked the question. "What happened? All I know is that you were injured..."  
  
"I think... I did something foolish. But she looked... harmless, and she said that she was a friend of Buffy's, so... Her name is Darla, or at least that's the name she used." Joyce looked down at their hands, her cheeks turning a tiny bit pink with embarrassment. "She... She bit me. It hurt, and I thought that she was trying to kill me... There was someone else there, at the end, but... it's all blurry."  
  
"But you're here now, and you're going to recover." He paused, thinking of all the possible problems that could happen if someone else figured out what had happened to her. "What did the doctors think happened to you?"  
  
"They decided that I fell and landed on a barbeque fork." She had this odd little smirk, as if she couldn't quite believe that anyone would buy such a story.  
  
"Mi Amor, do you even own such a utensil?" He couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice.  
  
Joyce sighed, almost seeming to collapse a little. "No. She... that's what you meant by not everyone is as civilized, isn't it?"  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, gently hugging her close. "It sounds like this Darla is most uncivilized indeed. Would you like me to go kill her for daring to touch you, or should I stay here and hold you?"  
  
"Just hold me for now. I'd rather have you here, where I can feel you, than have someone out looking for that bitch. I want to feel loved." There was a slight dampness forming on his shirt, the only sign of her tears.  
  
He closed his eyes, holding her close, letting her cry silent tears against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "I'm here for you, querida. You aren't alone."  
  
"Can you stay?" Her voice was soft, and there was a tiny sniffle.  
  
"Until the dawn. Or did you mean in Sunnydale? I don't have any need to hurry back, but I came right here." He chuckled just a little. "I didn't stop to find a place to stay yet. I may end up hiding in the basement for the day."  
  
"When they let me out… can you come to my place? I don't want to be alone. Knowing that she's still out there, not knowing where… it scares me." Her voice was soft, as if she was reluctant to admit to her fear.  
  
"Querida, I would be delighted to stay with you at your home. Most likely, they will release you from the hospital during the day, and I will have to come find you after the sun sets." He caressed the side of her face, wishing that she were not so tired, not so weakened. Wishing that they were alone, in a more suitable surrounding, so that he could remind her that she was beautiful.  
  
Joyce sighed, snuggling against him. "You'll keep me safe."  
  
Holding her, Javier could only hope that things would be so simple.  
  
End part 1.  
  
He did have to retreat to the basement for the day, retreating before the sun's rays entered Joyce's room. She was resting then, sleeping with a small smile, and he gave her a parting kiss before leaving. Of course, the basement of the hospital was… slightly more interesting than other basements would have been, but it was still a basement. Carefully maintained heating equipment, a few storerooms, and a morgue. Granted, that was different than most basements, but it was still… boring. Very boring.  
  
By the time the sun had slipped below the horizon, he knew that Joyce had left the hospital. Her presence was farther away now, but he could still feel her. Joyfully, he left the hospital, his small amount of luggage in hand, and made his way along the streets, searching for Joyce. He could feel her, and knew a direction, but that wasn't quite the same as having a street address, which might not have helped anyhow, considering that he didn't know where things were in this town.  
  
His wanderings brought him to a nice, two-story house on a quiet seeming street. It was a pale color, not quite white, and seemed unremarkable, save for the presence of Joyce inside, save for the lingering scent of fear and fading spilled blood. Walking up to the door, he knocked, politely, hoping that she still wanted his company.  
  
The door opened, and she looked up, cautious, her caution becoming a delighted smile as she saw him. Her arms flew around him, and she hugged him. "I'm so glad that you're here. Come in, come in…"  
  
Stepping inside, he looked around, trying to get a feel for her house, the place she had been trying to make her own. It seemed comfortable, with classical tastes and conservative colors for the walls and furniture, and a variety of wall ornamentation. Currently, there was a trio of paintings that seemed to be going for a pseudo-Grecian classical look, and a small marble sculpture. "It seems like a nice place."  
  
"The living room has a fairly soft couch, but there's a big window. I think you'll just have to stay with me, in my room." Joyce sounded as if a part of her was trying to insist there was something wrong with that, but she wanted him with her anyhow. She didn't sound upset at all, really.  
  
"I came her to see you, to make certain that you were alright, not to find out how comfortable your couch is, Joyce. I was worried about you." He brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, smiling gently.  
  
She smiled, leaning against him with a soft sigh. "Maybe… hmm… maybe we could watch a movie together. I'm… much as a few other ideas seem tempting, I'm not certain when Buffy will be back. She said she'd be home by nine, but…"  
  
"That hour has already come and gone again." Vachon smiled a bit, understanding what she was saying. She didn't want her teenage daughter to walk in on her mother and her mother's lover in a delicate situation. "So, what would you like to see?"  
  
She glanced at the cabinet near the television, sucking just a little of her lower lip under her teeth as she considered. "Well… it's actually a bit silly. Rather sappy, and entirely unrealistic at time, but… It's sort of a guilty pleasure." She pulled the box out, holding it up in a mute appeal.   
  
They ended up curled on the couch, with Joyce leaning back against him, watching 'Gone with the Wind'. He handed her the occasional tissue, and held her snuggled against him, occasionally murmuring in her ear about a few of the outfits that people had really worn during that era. He didn't say anything out loud, but he privately sent a thank you to every saint that he could remember that Joyce wasn't afraid of him after her attack. Eventually, Joyce fell asleep, relaxed against him. Savoring the moment, he just held her in his arms as the movie rewound.   
  
Naturally, the moment couldn't last forever. He heard the front door open and softly close, with almost silent footsteps drawing closer to the living room. Surely this must be her daughter Buffy, home at last.  
  
"Let go of my mother you… Vampire!" The loud shout that emerged from her was quite unexpected, as was the fact that she knew what he was. Of course, the sharp stake in her hand wasn't a very good thing either. Somehow, it wasn't a surprise to realize that this was the girl from the hospital, the one he'd decided was a dangerous puzzle.  
  
Of course, the shouting woke Joyce from her nap, and she jumped, nearly falling from the couch. "Wha… Buffy? What's going on here? Do you know what time it is? Put down that… stick?"  
  
"Mom, get away from him! He's a vampire." Buffy's words carried a curious mix of pleading and threat. It was obvious that her plan was to attack as soon as her mother was out of the immediate line of fire.  
  
"Buffy Anne Summers, you put down that stick right now. I have no idea what you've been doing out for" Joyce paused a moment, glancing at the clock behind her daughter. "Three hours past the time you said you'd be back… and why were you out past midnight on a school night? It's no wonder that you're getting bad grades if you do this all the time. But to then come home and threaten my guest in my house…"  
  
Buffy blinked, taking a small step backwards. "But… mom… he's a vampire!  
  
Vachon smiled just a little, and leaned forward, whispering into Joyce's ear. "She does seem to be stuck on that, doesn't she?"  
  
"Get away from my mother! Stop that… whatever you're doing!" Buffy looked alarmed.  
  
"Put the stake down. This is Javier Vachon, a very good friend of mine, and he's here to make certain that I'm alright. I know that he's a vampire, and I trust him. How did you know, and why were you out until midnight?" Joyce glared at her daughter, leaning against Vachon just a little.  
  
"Now I'm confused." Buffy's words were almost sulky as she lowered the stake, continuing to glare at Vachon.  
  
"Why don't we actually talk about this instead of shouting. And there's no need for threatening with weapons." Joyce sighed, almost sagging back against Vachon after her words. The soft murmur of "I feel too tired for all of this…" shouldn't have carried as well as it did.  
  
"Querida, please, try to calm down. It's not good to stress yourself so after being injured." He settled her against him, trying to make certain that she was comfortable. "I shall hope that your daughter will show some of your own good sense and behave for the moment."  
  
"Charmer." She smiled at him, leaning back with a smile. "Those eyes could be considered an irresistible form of persuasion."  
  
"Oh my God…" Buffy's stunned voice weakened the mood of the moment. "Please tell me that you aren't dating this guy? Please tell me you haven't fallen for some vampire? I mean, I know you split up from Dad, and you could do the whole dating thing again, but… but not him. Please?"  
  
"Buffy!" Joyce looked at her daughter, half glaring even as she blushed a little. "It is not your concern who I might date."  
  
Vachon looked carefully, frowning a little as he caught a scent from her. "Why are you so worried about me and your mother when you've been close to a vampire tonight as well?"   
  
"That's… he's… that's different." Buffy faltered, looking at the pair of them with frantic eyes.  
  
"What are you doing spending time with strange vampires? That Darla vampire almost killed me, and now you're out and about until midnight with some vampire… Buffy…" Joyce sounded shocked and unhappy.  
  
"But that's… I thought… Darla got staked. There was… it was a confusing night, and there was… umm, stuff." Buffy fidgeted awkwardly, as if she'd rather not be having this conversation right now.  
  
"Well, it's a good thing to know that she can not hurt you again, Joyce." He ran his fingers through her hair, offering a small hug.  
  
"So, why were you out until midnight?" Joyce looked at her daughter, refusing to be distracted.  
  
Settling on the couch, Vachon tried to make himself comfortable and less conspicuous. This conversation could be… something. Especially since he was certain that Joyce didn't know about whatever it was that enabled him to feel Buffy's presence.  
  
End part 2.  
  
Buffy glanced at them, her hands twiddling the stake as if it were simply a very short baton. "Well, since you apparently know about vampires being real, and that so does not explain this guy, I guess I can skip the part where they're the nasty bitey people that we don't like? Right? Or maybe I should go into that…"   
  
"There are supposed to be rules for civilized behavior. In most places that aren't over a short trip to hell, those rules are enforced. In places like a Hellmouth… few care for the rules, and most that consider themselves to be civilized avoid these places. What happened to Joyce was wrong, and broke quite a few of those rules for being civilized." Vachon tried to keep his explanation simple, not wanting to go into vampire history or politics just now. He especially hoped to avoid explaining the part where Darla attacking Joyce was wrong because he'd already marked her as his. Somehow, he wasn't certain that either of them would care for that part.  
  
"Civilized vampires… okaayyy…" Buffy shook her head, as if doubting his words. "Doesn't explain how you got here, why you're all cuddly with my mother, or… anything. And how do I know that you follow these rules anyhow?"  
  
"Well, you could accept my word on it, which used to be sufficient, but since I doubt that will be enough, you'll just have to trust in your mother's good sense." Vachon offered a small, ironic smile. There was something nagging at the edge of him memory about her explanation, something that he'd heard once that sounded like it should fit with her own words. "But that does not explain why you have that rather sharp bit of wood."  
  
"Giles never mentioned anything about internal checks on vampires. His version went 'In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone stands against the vampires and the forces of Darkness, she is the Slayer.' Which kind of sounds like a lousy destiny if you ask me, but… want to take a guess who got to be Chosen?" There was resentment and bitterness in her voice as she spoke.  
  
"Chosen… Slayer? That's… I don't like the sound of that at all." Joyce was shaking a bit, her arms wrapping around herself as she tried to hide under Vachon's arm.  
  
Vachon closed his eyes, considering things carefully. He'd heard stories before, whispers of a girl fighting and killing vampires. Rumors of a girl immune to the power of their eyes, a relentless killer to be avoided. As such girls were most often reputed to dwell over places of great evil and chaos, he'd never encountered any before. "I have heard of such girls before. Normally living over hellmouths or in places where there are considerable problems. But I'd never actually met any of them."  
  
Buffy sighed, and there was a small click as the stake was placed on the little table bearing the lamp. "So… how did you meet my mom anyhow?"  
  
Joyce chuckled, her hand caressing his arm gently. "I bumped into him on an art buying trip."  
  
"Right… why doesn't he look like the artist type to me?" Buffy still sounded wary, but at least she wasn't still trying to be threatening.  
  
"More of a musician actually, but she was on a buying trip. I just happened to bump into this lovely lady at a café…" He smiled, kissing the top of her head lightly.  
  
"So that's what happened when you went to find some stuff for the grand opening…" Buffy shuddered, as if she did not want to think about such things. "So, why are you involved with my mom instead of some vamp-lady?"  
  
Joyce was making a few noises as if she was trying not to laugh. Vachon just smiled, and decided that the less Buffy knew about the details of his relationship with her mother, the happier she would be. "Somehow, I doubt you've spent much time around many female vampires. I wanted someone sweet."  
  
Joyce made a small, pleased sound and snuggled back against him a little more.  
  
"This is just… really wiggy. Good night." Buffy stood up, stake in hand, and retreated, moving up the stairs, presumably towards her room.  
  
"I would go more with exhausting." Joyce sighed, right before yawning. "Oh goodness… Take me to bed?"  
  
"My pleasure, querida. And if there are any other requests that you would make of me… those would also be a pleasure." He smiled, lifting her in his arms. Still smiling, he carried her off to her bed.  
  
She pulled him down beside her, smiling at him. "I like having you around."  
  
"Then I shall stay here with you." Vachon smiled, his eyes flickering golden in the darkness. Leaning forward, he kissed her. "I want you to feel safe and loved… as much as I possibly can without your daughter bursting in on the two of us."  
  
Joyce chuckled a little. "My door has a latch."  
  
It wasn't until later that she was willing to resume her rest, which a doctor would have almost certainly suggested after her attack. Of course, he made certain that she was feeling very loved. And when she finally slept, curled up against him, she seemed to feel very safe indeed.  
  
End Taste the Forbidden 4: Entanglements 


	5. Taste of Hope and Worry

Author: Lucinda

Pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon, also contains mention of Buffy/Angel

Fifth in Taste the Forbidden

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.

Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, Mental Wanderings, Mystifying Dreams. Anyone else must ask.

Notes: FfA pairing #381 for Twisting. We are in season 1, altered by Joyce's awareness that vampires are real and new discovery that her daughter is the Slayer. There is no Dawn Summers in this family.

Joyce had felt as if she needed to drag herself out of bed, away from Javier Vachon's arms that morning. It would have been lovely to stay curled up against him, but she doubted that Buffy would be able to get herself up and ready for school. It was almost a relief that her gallery, like every other shop on that block, was closed today and for the rest of the week to enable some sewer repair work to take place.

She'd made very little effort for the rest of the day. She'd seen Buffy off to school, made herself a little breakfast, and then curled up in bed again, though she wasn't entirely certain that she'd been as restful as the doctor would have liked. But Vachon had been very gentle and amazingly focused on her enjoyment of their romantic interlude.

Eventually, she left the bed again, leaving him asleep, slipping her pillow into his arms. A shower and a light lunch made her feel a bit better, less of an invalid. She had the feeling that she'd probably need her strength when Buffy got home from school. She had the feeling that her daughter not only wouldn't understand, but didn't approve of her relationship. Not that Buffy had any authority over her dating choices, but Joyce expected her daughter to be rather vocal in her dismay. Though if Buffy was dating a vampire herself, why was she objecting? Furthermore, why hadn't Buffy said anything about this Angel fellow?

The door opened, and Buffy walked inside, dropping her bag of schoolbooks with a heavy thud. "Mom, it's good to see you up and about."

Joyce nodded, and then glanced at Buffy. "That sounded like you have plenty of homework. Maybe you should try to work on some of it now, instead of after you get back from… where were you last night anyhow?"

"Angel and I went looking for Darla," Buffy offered, moving towards the kitchen. Pulling out a bottle of juice, Buffy added, "Why are you all snuggly with a vampire, mom?"

"I didn't know that he was a vampire when I first met him. I knew that he was a handsome man, and it felt good to be with someone who complimented me." Joyce paused, deciding not to explain too many of the details about when, and to avoid letting out any of her lingering anger at Hank and his many affairs. "By the time that I found out, it didn't matter to me."

"But he's a vampire!" Buffy protested, looking at her mother with her eyes full of worry.

"Why don't you tell me more about this Angel person that has you out until midnight." Joyce replied, folding her arms as she leaned in the doorway. "Why don't you explain this Chosen Slayer thing to me and why your librarian was really visiting me in the hospital?"

"Giles is my Watcher. He's the one who knows about all the strange and oogy stuff out there that I have to fight." Buffy shrugged, and took another drink of her juice. "Angel… he's… it's not like… I mean, he's just helping me fight things."

"I see." Joyce deliberately kept her tone suspicious. Buffy had run with quite the fast crowd in LA, something that she would dearly love to be able to blame on Hank. Regardless of whether it was her neglect, Hank's pushing for Buffy to know the children of potentially useful connections, or Buffy's own choices, she hadn't liked it. Those young people – not children, but certainly not reasonable adults – had pushed far too much. They wanted everything, every pleasure from fast cars, to clubs, and most likely sex as well. She had been certain that she'd caught the scent of cigarettes and alcohol on Buffy's clothing after some of those parties, and she didn't even want to think about her daughter and sex.

"Really, it's not like that! He shows up with warnings of trouble, we go fight, and then he's gone. He's too gloomy anyhow." Buffy insisted, though she didn't sound quite as convinced as she was attempting to be.

Joyce only nodded, not arguing. The appearance of suspicion could be far more effective than any questions that she might ask. Instead, she merely commented, "Try to get some of your studying done."

As Buffy sulked her way back to the living room, Joyce sighed. At times like this, she was so glad that Buffy was her only child. "Maybe a little more rest would be good…"

She retreated to her room, snuggling up beside Vachon. As his arms wrapped around her, she relaxed, feeling safe at last.

End part 1.

"Worrying so much won't speed your recovery. Some things can't be rushed by thinking that they should go faster," Javier's voice was a soft purr beside her.

"I keep feeling as if she needs me, and I'm not there for her," Joyce protested.

"Your daughter is the Slayer, surely she can defend herself, surely there is a Watcher to guide her." He wrapped his arms around her, and held Joyce close.

"A Watcher to guide a Slayer, to guide someone to fight. What about the part where she's a sixteen year old girl?" Joyce whispered, her eyes stinging as she pictured her daughter out there, fighting against some terrible thing from a horror movie. "She's not just a Slayer, she's Buffy."

"She has you," he kissed the place where her neck met her shoulder, and sighed. "Even if you are not strong enough to battle beside her, and right now you most certainly are not, I know that you would not abandon her."

"I know that, you know that," Joyce sighed, her arms going over his as if she could keep him from letting go. "Does Buffy know that?"

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes were solemn as he murmured, "My first thought is to ask how anyone could doubt your protectiveness for her, but then I remember when I was sixteen. Would you feel better if we went to see what she is doing now?"

"Were you terrible at sixteen?" Joyce tried to picture him at that age, and frowned. "When were you sixteen?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago, querida. I sailed with Cortez to the lands of the Azteca." His eyes grew serious, and he sighed. "I wasn't any worse than most young men, but I thought that I knew everything, and that I was invincible. The normal follies of youth, I suppose."

"But the real question is, did you grow out of those follies?" Joyce smiled at him, leaning close enough to place a light kiss over his lips.

"I'd like to think so, but it took me far longer than it should have," Javier leaned against her, and sighed. "Come outside, if the librarian is her Watcher, they're likely at the school. I can get us there more quickly than your car."

Joyce nodded, uncertain how he could do that, but she trusted him. He lifted her into his arms, and then he was moving into the air. Startled, Joyce clung to him, gasping out, "You can fly?"

"Of course. How else did you think I managed to get here from the airport in L.A.? There wouldn't have been a flight to Sunnydale until morning." He held her close, and then they landed in the school courtyard. "Much faster than driving, and no worries about traffic delays."

They found an unlocked door, and let themselves into the school building. Joyce frowned as she looked down the empty hallway, wondering where to find her daughter. Javier didn't share her confusion, and tucked her arm in his, as if she were a grand lady, and led her down the hall. He made a gesture, hand flat as his arm waved, a theatrical presentation of the library doors.

"… she's all cozy with him, Giles. I just don't understand it." Buffy's voice, sounding like a sulky child.

"Perhaps your mother simply isn't aware of the dangers inherent to a vampire, much less the risks of any… err… personal involvement." This voice was that of a man, flavored with a British accent.

"We've got to put a stop to it. You're the book guy, can't you find something, figure out a way to get her away from him or something?" Buffy insisted.

Joyce closed her eyes, the words hurting. Each one felt like a weight dropped onto her shoulders. Fighting the urge to cry, she turned her face to Javier's chest, whispering, take me back home, I can't talk to her right now. Not after hearing that…"

Joyce hid her face against Javier as air rushed past them. She didn't protest as he carried her back into her house, or when he settled on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. "I know that it pains you to hear her disregarding your wishes so. All I can do is be here for you now, that you will have someone who loves you here for you in your pain."

As her emotions settled again, she looked at him. "I didn't think I was looking for that much. I gave up on Prince Charming taking me away to his castle, and I'm not looking for a knight in shining armor to kill dragons for me. I just want someone that I can be happy with, someone who cares, someone who won't be cheating on me all the time, someone that I can trust."

"I used to have shining armor," he murmured, and then smirked. "It got abandoned and has probably long since rusted away."

Chuckling, Joyce shifted her weight, and tucked her head onto his shoulder. "It would probably be hard to keep armor that shiny anyhow."

"I am here for you, even if I'm not a prince, and have long since lost the shining armor," Javier murmured. "Buffy will come around, especially if she stays with that vampire of hers."

"Remind me to have a long talk with her later," Joyce murmured. "She's still only sixteen…"

"And once upon a time, she might have been married and expecting a child by now," he pointed out.

Joyce shuddered. "I'm too young to become a grandmother. Would you like a cup of cocoa?"

"That would be nice," he smiled.

Moving to the kitchen, Joyce started heating the milk for hot cocoa. Maybe her life wasn't a fairy tale, but things weren't so bad. Maybe she could still make her own happily after ending after all.

End part 2.

End Taste the Forbidden 5: Taste of Worry and Hope.


End file.
